Collision
by ashhead
Summary: Haymitch meets his new escort and begins to see beyond her garish exterior.
1. Chapter 1

Relief was the first thing Haymitch Abernathy felt when he set eyes on District 12's new escort. Sure she was dressed in a particularly hideous shade of neon green, right down from the bulbous mass on top of her head that he hoped for her sake was a wig, to the cartoonish makeup caked on her face and the frilly dress which made her waddle. But she wasn't Rhinstone Harkness, and as far as he was concerned she could look as ridiculous as she liked so long as he never had to see that man again.

"Ah, Mr Abernathy, it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Euphemia Trinket, your new escort." The green woman stuck her hand out to him. She even smelled green, some weird grassy smell. Only in the Capitol would they consider grass a good idea for a perfume.

"Euph... what?" Fuck, he was drunker than he intended to be. He hated reaping days and sometimes he needed a little extra to get him through the day, but he'd obviously gone a little overboard.

She rolled her eyes at him, no doubt she had been briefed about his fondness for alcohol. Or maybe not, he was always like this during the games, and laughing at his latest drunken antics was a safe bet to drum up interest if the games hit a dull patch. He guessed most of Panem knew by now.

"Euphemia," she said again, "but you can call me Effie." She did a weird, awkward little laugh, which he didn't get at all. Whatever.

She was staring at him now, like she was waiting for something. He couldn't fathom what. But she did have very pretty blue eyes. Given that they weren't green he assumed they must be real.

"Right, well then, we don't have long now Mr Abernathy, so you ought to get yourself ready."

He just stared at her dumbly. What was she on about, he was already ready. "It's Haymitch. And I'm ready."

"But... surely..." she trailed off. Maybe she was a bit stupid, lots of these Capitol women were. "Haymitch you do realise they televise the reapings?" She said the words slowly, as if she was having difficulty putting a sentence together. Definitely stupid.

"Sweetheart, I have been doing this for twelve years now, I know what I'm doing." Oh, she didn't like being called Sweetheart, she screwed her face up in a funny sort of way when he said it. It left lines in the makeup on her forehead. That made him smile, he liked knowing what pissed off his escorts. Or at least he'd liked knowing what pissed off Rhinestone.

"Thirteen," she corrected. Huh, she was right. "And I'm sorry Haymitch, but you can't possibly mean to go out there like this. Your shirt's creased, there's a stain on your pants and you smell." She pulled that odd little face again, crinkling her nose and forehead. It was kind of cute, even if she was insulting him.

"You do know there's no smell on television, right Sweetheart?" That face again, oh, he was going to have fun with this one. "And you do know I'm Panem's resident drunk? It wouldn't be right if I turned up looking as pretty as you." She beamed at him for this. He was definitely going to try and keep hold of her, she was hysterical.

"Don't be silly Haymitch." She pursed her lips in thought. "I know, there's this gorgeous silk set on the train. Green of course, so we'd be matching. It's meant for the male tribute, but there are so may sets of clothes on there, no one would ever know. And you can take a quick shower there too. It will take us off schedule, but as long as we don't dawdle we should be fine." With that she set off at a remarkable speed for someone wearing heels that big and a skirt that tight. "Come along Haymitch," she called when she saw he wasn't following.

Somehow he found himself racing to catch up with her. "No. Look I'm perfectly fine as I am. Nobody cares what I look like." She didn't even turn around to acknowledge him.

"Right, straight into the shower then," she directed him as soon as they were on the train.

"No Effie, I'm not showering."

"Yes, you are. I'll have a drink waiting for when you come out." A drink, he needed one of those. He guessed he could manage a shower. Not a change of clothes though. There was no way he was putting on anything green. He'd just tell her no.

The shower was good, the hot jets of water did wonders for his back. Showers, properly hot showers, were one of the few things he actually missed about being in the Capitol. He actually felt more human by the time he'd managed to get himself clean. Certainly more sober.

Then he saw it, an awful green suit hanging on the back of the door, and no sign of his own clothes. He hadn't even heard her come in. He just stared at it for a while, considering his options. He could go out there naked, but Capitol women were weird. She might decide that was him making a pass at her, and when he turned her down she was bound to get distraught, they always did. So the green suit it was.

He shuddered as he put it on. He hated silk, the sensation of it sliding against his skin was disturbing. And it really was an awful green. Even the underthings were green.

He finally forced himself out of bathroom and was immediately met by an awful shriek.

"Oh Haymitch, you look so dashing." She was upon him in an instant, straightening his shirt and tidying his hair. "We'll be the talk of the Capitol, I know we will. Everybody will be wearing green, just you wait." She beamed at him as if she was giving him the best news ever.

"Drink?" he grunted. He wasn't going to acknowledge the idea that he would responsible for starting a Capitol fashion trend. It was bad enough that she'd got him into this ridiculous suit in the first place. He just wanted his drink.

"Yes, coffee," she said with a wicked gleam in her eye as she passed him a mug. "Sober you up before we go on stage."

"Coffee?" She was evil, utterly evil.

"Yes, coffee." There was a finality in her tone that told him not to argue. "Drink it as you walk, we need to go. And do not spill it."

He found himself following her back to the stage with a steaming hot mug of coffee.

One thing did occur to him as he followed her though. If his underclothes were co-ordinated with his suit then he bet hers were too. And that was quite a pleasant thought as he watched her sashay in that awfully tight little dress.

That, and she definitely wasn't stupid.


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you to the lovely people who left reviews. I haven't done any writing in a long time, so your feedback is much appreciated._

Effie Trinket was an enormously talented individual. She knew this as she had been tested vigorously as a child. She tested highly in virtually every area, although her numerical reasoning was merely above average and her musical abilties were poor, but it was her emotional intelligence that was off the scale. They'd had to adjust her medications when those results came through to try and numb those parts of her that picked up on things that she wasn't supposed to notice. That worked for a while, until she learnt to stop taking drugs they forced on all the kids that lived in the group homes.

She had come to rely on her emotional senses to guide her through the mindfield that was working on the Hunger Games. Her body seemed to know what reaction to give even when her mind was frozen in the horrors it encountered. Today, as she made her way towards the two glass bowls in the centre of the stage she was relying on her body to give the appropriate reaction as she surveyed the crowd before her.

She'd never left the Capitol before, and the images she'd seen on the television screen were no comparison for the real thing. The colours were so different, everything was so washed out and tired looking, pale tones that greyed round the edges.

She could only imagine how she looked to these people in her green outfit. Ridiculous of course, but that was the point of wearing it, her armour to prevent the world she lived in from seeing the real her. But now standing there before them she felt almost disrespectful. These people were so poor that even from a distance she could see how gaunt their children were, how haggard their grandparents were. And she stood there glittering in the sunlight, a gaudy bauble, draped in wealth and colour that these people could only dream of. Come to lead their children to their deaths.

Draw a breath, keep smiling, say the words that she'd memorised.

The film had started to play, so she was just standing there. Some of the children in the front rows had started to cry, the anticipation of their first reaping overwhelming them. This was going to play badly on screen, making District 12 look weak. It was going to be nigh on impossible to get sponsors. A new escort, and the stunt she'd pulled by dressing Haymitch up were going to ensure that they were on screen, but the coverage was going to be ridicule rather than respect. She needed to wrest some control back before things got out of hand.

"Well, wasn't that just fantastic," she called, her voice being amplified by the earpiece she wore. "Now it's time to see who gets the honour of representing District 12 in the 63rd Hunger Games." There, that did it, calling it an honour had united them in hatred of the games. Now there was an energy that could feasibly passed off as enthusiasm by the commentators rather than a worn down air of defeat.

"Ladies first." This was it, the moment in which she was going to condemn some poor girl to death. She had no doubt that whomever she chose was more than likely going to end up dead. The inner districts were allowed to train their kids despite the official line that training was banned. The tributes who volunteered from those districts were both lethal and charming, able to gain sponsors with as much ease as they could kill the poor children from the outer districts. There would be no crying children in the front rows in the inner districts, there was no chance of a twelve year old being selected to steal the glory from the volunteers. Although by the end of the games at least five of the volunteers would be dead regardless.

There was no tremor in her hands as she opened the little envelope, no break in her smile, but she could feel her heart racing in chest and bile rising in her throat. "Miriam Lockett."

An eerie hush ran through the crowd and she could feel the rush of emotion that swept through the square, a dizzying hit of both relief and sheer terror. The crowd began to part from the middle, not a young one then. A skinny girl with olive skin and dark hair made her way up onto the stage, although that could have described most of the girls in the district. This one was quivering with fear, but was biting her lip hard to stop the tears.

Effie took her hand to help her up onto the stage and the girl flinched when she touched her. Effie had more than enough experience at flinching when people touched her, but to have that reaction played back at her made her feel disgusting. She let go of the girl as soon as she was standing on the stage.

"And now for the boys." Another envelope in her hands, she was amazed they were still steady. "Davis Matthews." This time the crowd parted nearer the front, although not in the very front few rows. A woman screamed. That would definitely be edited out. The boy was in tears by the time he reached the stage. When Effie offered him her hand he clung to it and refused to let go even when she led him to the middle of the stage.

"District 12, lets hear it for your tributes, Miriam Lockett and Davis Matthews." She didn't try and touch the girl again, but she did give Davis' hand a squeeze to try and halt his tears for this key shot. This is the one that would be replayed over and over in the run up to the games. She beckoned Haymitch over from where he was slumped on the edge of stage. A team shot with her and Haymitch in matching outfits was definitely going to sell District 12. The crowd was angry and resentful, but they were clapping and that was all that mattered for the shot.

Haymitch sauntered over to them, glaring at her as he did. She used her free hand to grab him and pull him into the shot. His glare darkened into something dangerous for a second, and then turned into a wry grin. He brought his face in close to hers and she had to remind herself that she was on camera and not back away.

"And lets hear it for our new escort, Effie Trinket." His voice was picked up by her microphone and amplified for the cameras.

She shook her head slightly to try and dissuade him from whatever mad idea he had but it was already too late, his lips were descending on hers. She registered the taste of whisky and coffee and the smell of lavender soap before the contact was gone.

His kiss had been brief and chaste, but she still felt the panic of an unwelcome touch swell up through her. The options were outrage or resignation, but outrage was the only one which would sell a story here.

"Haymitch! Manners!" Manners? Oh well, it would work well enough, they would definitely be a talking point in the coverage. If they could keep this up there would definitely be some sponsors to ease the children's time in the games and hopefully raise 12's profile. Any positive attention she could garner for this starving district would surely be worth something.

He just laughed at her as she led them inside so the children could say their goodbyes.


	3. Chapter 3

_Thanks Bella184ever for the review, much appreciated. Had lots of trouble with tenses in this, I think I've picked all the errors up, but if you spot any more let me know._

She led Miriam and Davis to the waiting rooms in the justice building, leaving Haymitch talking with the Mayor in the foyer. Miriam had warmed up a little following the incident with Haymitch on the stage and managed a weak smile when Effie left her.

Davis on the other hand had become more and more hysterical as she walked him to the other end of the corridor and tried to leave him in his room. He was clutching her hand as if his life depended on it and great sobs were wracking through his body. "Please... Please don't let them hurt her." She understood then that this boy wasn't crying for himself, he was crying for the woman who had screamed at his reaping, his mother.

"Don't be silly, nobody's going to hurt anyone. I'm going to get her now so that you can say goodbye. OK?" The boy nodded and reluctantly let go of her hand, still sobbing.

When she went back into the corridor she saw Miriam's family, her parents and a younger sister, making their way into her room, but no one was coming for Davis. She went back out to the stage, rushing past the Mayor and Haymitch.

"Slow down Sweetheart," Haymitch called after her, following her out onto the stage. But she'd already stopped, she'd spotted a woman on her knees in the square, surrounded by peacekeepers. "Shit."

Effie didn't approve of Haymitch's language, especially as they were going to be working with children, but she did agree with his sentiment.

"Mrs Matthews!" She exclaimed in her loudest, most overbearing tone. "There you are. Come along now, you need to say goodbye to your son."

The peacekeepers parted to allow Effie to see the woman. Her eyes were puffy, and not just from tears, it was clear that she had been beaten.

Effie swallowed, this was going to be tricky, peacekeepers didn't like people interfering, especially people like her. Peacekeepers were either from district 2 or were kids who'd grown up in the Capitol's group homes and had been deemed unfit for work on the games. Either way they didn't like people like her. "Get up then. We're on a tight schedule you know."

"Excuse me ma'am, but this woman is in our custody now. You'll have to carry on without her." The accent told her this man was from district 2, which was at least better than if he was from the Capitol.

"Don't be ridiculous, she's needed for the games. You'll have to let her go immediately. We're in a hurry." It wasn't working, she could tell that this man was used to holding the balance of power and wasn't going to be swayed.

"I'm sorry ma'am but you'll have to go on without her. She was disturbing the peace, I'm sure you understand. That sort of thing has to be stamped out straight away, or these district types never learn."

Did he think she didn't realise he was from district 2? "No I don't understand at all. The schedule says she needs to say goodbye to her son. Then she needs to go home so that she is available for interview should he make the final eight. So she needs to come with us now." It was working, he was starting to look unsure.

"I'm sorry but that won't be possible."

"Then we have a problem. The train leaves in twenty minutes and the schedule says the tributes get ten minutes with their families. We're not leaving until he's had ten minutes with her. If the train comes in late there's going to be hell to pay. The new head gamemaker is a real stickler for these things."

"Darius, her kid just got picked as tribute, let her say goodbye." Haymitch had come over and was now helping the woman up of the ground.

Darius stared at the three of them for a second, weighing it up in his head, then sighed. "Get her out of here."

Haymitch dragged the woman away, leaving Effie to follow. Not for the first time today she wished she'd worn a skirt that allowed more movement as she hurried after them.

"He's down the end," Haymitch pointed the woman towards the end of the corridor, "Once you're done go out the back, the Mayor will show you the way. Keep your head down until this all blows over."

A hoarse, "Thank you," was all the woman managed before she was off down the corridor. Effie heard Davis' cry of, "Mum," as the door was opened.

Effie watched the door close and wished there was something more she could do. The woman had been beaten for objecting to her child being taken away to be brutally murdered for a television show.

When Haymitch reached for her hand she felt herself tense up. This was the first time they'd been alone together since she'd tricked him into cleaning himself up. When he'd briefly kissed her on the stage she'd convinced herself that he was just trying to sell a good story, get a good shot and take attention away from Davis and his mother, but now she's not so sure. She's read everything she could get her hands on about him, she knows he's not a violent drunk unless he's provoked, but now she's wondering what he would consider provocation. But there was no sudden movement, no move to hit her or pin her against the wall. Instead he just looked at her intently, looking for some clue to the thoughts in her head. She kept her face blank, she couldn't afford to betray herself to him.

He squeezed her hand lightly before he let it go, and whispered in a voice so low and gravelly that it sent shivers through her, "Sweetheart that was a good thing you just did."

She wished she could tell him that he was wrong, that all she'd done was overlook peacekeepers abusing their position, and that Davis' mother had deserved so much more, but she doesn't. The building is undoubtedly bugged, and besides she doesn't trust him. Instead she forced a vacant smile and what she hoped was a suitably clueless response, "Don't call me Sweetheart, my name is Effie. Eff-ie."

"Whatever you say, Princess. I'm getting on the train, I need a drink."

"Effie!" She screamed after him, but he just laughed.


	4. Chapter 4

_Thanks again for the reviews. Warning that there's some darker content in this chapter, although nothing graphic._

After having been in district 12 for a few hours the train was a shock to her eyes. The colours were unbelievably bright, the whole effect was somewhat overwhelming. She could only imagine what it must be like for Miriam and Davis who would have never experienced anything but washed out pastels. Miriam was wandering around the carriage touching everything, Davis was just gaping.

The schedule said they had two hours to congratulate and celebrate with the tributes. Effie used it to give them a tour of the train since they were both so taken with it. She showed them their bedrooms, to which both of them uttered gasps of delight. Davis threw himself onto the bed with a shriek which made all three of them giggle.

Effie was telling Miriam about the bedspread, velvet and taffeta, as Davis sat cross legged on the bed, bouncing up and down. The kids were still a little wide eyed and shaky, but with a little bit of distraction they were at least smiling.

"What the fuck is going on in here."

She was such an idiot. With all the distraction of the reaping, she'd forgotten what had happened with Rhinestone last year.

"Kids, go to the dining car, there are some cakes on the table, help yourselves. Haymitch and I will be along in a moment."

Davis looked warily between the two of them and for a second he looked like he would refuse to leave her with Haymitch, but Miriam tugged at his arm and pulled him away. She even shot an apologetic look at Effie as she left, a little bit of attention had gone a long way there.

Effie stared at Haymitch and willed him to be silent until the kids left, and surprisingly enough he was.

"He's dead. Rhinestone. He killed himself. Couldn't live with what he'd done." Technically not a lie. He couldn't live with what he'd done because the Capitol wouldn't let him. And although he had put the lethal dose of sleeping pills in his mouth and swallowed them, thus killing himself, she was the one who had put the dose in his hand, offered him a glass of water to swallow them with and watched to make sure he kept them down.

She had no regrets about it either, the man was a monster, the girl had barely been able to walk when they put her in the arena, she'd only gone a few paces before she was cut down. That she'd been eighteen and initially willing was utterly besides the point in Effie's mind, even if some of the older gamesmakers had disagreed. Fortunately President Snow had agreed with her. Couldn't have escorts injuring tributes, it didn't make for good watching when they got in the arena. An example needed to be made.

Haymitch said nothing, just looked at her. His fingers were gripped so tightly around the neck of the bottle that his knuckles had turned white. She wondered whether it was Rhinestone he was imaging strangling or if it was her own neck his fingers itched to wrap around.

"He deserved it Haymitch."

"They were smiling when I came in, laughing even. You're good with them. Don't hurt them." She started to tell him she wouldn't, she would never hurt them, but he interrupted, "Don't. Just don't. You ought to go back to them now, I think I upset them."

"They'll be ok. The recaps are starting soon, are you going to join us?"

"No point. You've seen those two, they've got no chance. Especially after last year." Haymitch was right of course, the boy from 6 had won last year by hiding until the careers killed each other. He managed to stay hidden long enough for the last living career to die from blood loss before she managed to hunt him down. It had been deeply unpopular, they'd want someone more marketable this year, and it wouldn't be Davis or Miriam.

She watched the recaps with the kids, they'd managed to make a good showing out of 12's reaping, but it was clear from the start who the favourite was going to be. There was a boy from 2 who was a good foot taller than any of the other tributes and his district partner was a vicious little thing who had hissed and bared her teeth at the other girls who had tried to volunteer. As soon as she could Effie had the kids away from the television. She played it off as embarrassment when the recap showed Haymitch kissing her, and the kids bought it easily enough. Really she just needed to get them away from the undeniable fact that they had no chance at all.

She managed to keep them distracted through a meal by teaching them table manners and feeding them sweet treats. They were both exhausted, and despite her being anxious about leaving them alone with their own thoughts they both went to bed without any difficulty.

Once they were gone she worked up the courage to knock on Haymitch's door. If she'd thought he was drunk at the reaping it was nothing compared to his current state. He was barely able to keep upright.

"What do you want Sweetheart, I'm kind of busy right now." He waved his bottle at her to illustrate his point, as if she couldn't tell what it was he was busy doing.

"They've gone to bed now. You should too. I need you up and sober in the morning, we need to work on a strategy for them."

"They're going to die."

Effie pursed her lips, and whispered, "Yes, but there's at least two weeks before that happens, and we need a strategy for them." She doesn't wait for an answer, she doesn't need one. She knows from his previous games that he will fight for his tributes, she just needs him to be sober enough to do it in a coherent manner.

"Alright, I'll put the bottle down and go to bed. We'll work something out for them in the morning."

She should leave it at that, she knows she should, but she doesn't. She has to know what this relationship is going to be, if he is going to use her for more than just escorting the tributes. "Excellent. If you need anything, anything at all my room is at the end of the corridor." There, not an invitation, but an acknowledgement that if he wants her he can have her.

When she gets back to her room she redoes her make-up and re-pins her wig and puts on a slip that reveals more than it hides. It's very uncomfortable, but she isn't intending on sleeping. She's fairly certain he won't come for her, it isn't in line with what she knows about him, but you never really can tell with men and sex.

She spends hours watching the door and eventually falls asleep sitting up, which is just as well as even though it leaves her with a sore neck when she wakes up it's better than if she had fallen asleep with her wig pins stabbing into her skull. Despite the pain in her neck she feels more at ease than at any point since she was assigned as an escort.


	5. Chapter 5

He woke a start, his knife slashing the air in front of him. It was always the fucking same. It had been thirteen years and he still couldn't wake up without thinking someone was trying to kill him. It was always worse when he was on the sodding train, it made him claustrophobic and his dreams more vivid. He opened the bottle on his nightstand and took a swig, wincing as it went down, then staggered out of bed. The ugly green suit was on the floor, there was no way he was wearing that again. He made his way into the bathroom and shoved himself under the shower. Back home he wouldn't have bothered, but those jets of water on his back were amazing. Although he could do without the lavender scented soap.

When he finally emerged from the shower he felt almost human despite the poor nights sleep. He'd promised the woman, Effie, that he would work on a strategy for the kids today, so he felt obliged to keep himself relatively sober. Maybe just one more swig before he went to meet them.

When he came back into his room however he realised that would be impossible. The bloody woman had been in again, his bed was made, the awful green suit gone, replaced by a slightly less awful but still green shirt and a pair of casual pants, and most importantly his bottle of whisky was gone.

He threw his clothes on and stomped out to the dining car. Effie was already sat there with both the kids, both of whom were also wearing green. Perfect, they were going to be matching. His head hurt already.

"You've been in my room," he hissed at her, throwing himself down into the empty chair.

"Good morning to you too Haymitch," she smiled sweetly as she delivered that, making both the kids giggle. "Yes, I laid out your clothes for you. No need to thank me."

"Thank you? You took my drink." Thank her, was the woman bloody mad? He was not a doll for her to dress up, and he certainly didn't need her interfering with his drinking.

"You shouldn't drink in bed, it's bad manners. And I've poured you a drink already."

So she had, a small glass right in front of him. He downed it in one mouthful, it burnt nicely going down. She tutted at him, making the kids laugh again.

He helped himself to breakfast, the spread seemed to get more lavish every year. When he looked up from spooning excessive amounts of jam onto his toast he saw that all three of the were watching him. Effie cleared her throat and he remembered that he was supposed to be going through strategy with them. Were they not even going to let him eat first? He sighed, despite her interference this morning he still felt like he owed her something after chewing her out the day before. He'd just seen red when he saw her in the tributes bedroom.

"Right, so names, ages, what are you good at?" That was a good place to start right?

"Um, I'm Miriam, but everyone calls me Miri. I'm fifteen. I'm not really good at much. Sewing, I guess?" Sewing? That wasn't a combat skill!

"OK, sewing." The girl started to look surly, but really what did she expect? Sewing! Effie took her hand and squeezed it, the girl shot her a smile. "What about you?"

"My name's Davis, I'm thirteen. I don't really know what I'm good at. I can run fast."

"Oh well that's brilliant. Running's good, right Haymitch?" Apparently he hadn't been effusive enough about the girl's skill so Effie felt the need to gush over the boy.

"Yeah, running's a good skill, we can work with that. And if you're good at sewing, maybe you'll be good with a knife." He thought that was right. He remembered his mother sewing when he was a boy and it seemed to involve stabbing the fabric repeatedly. The girl nods, but he can see from the look on her face that she isn't buying it. "We'll come up with a plan for your skills whilst you're with the stylists. Most important thing for you today is to be happy for the cameras, smile and be nice to everyone you meet, they're all potential sponsors. And do whatever the stylists tell you, last thing you want is to piss off your stylist."

"Language Haymitch." Seriously, what had he even said? "But he's right. Stylists are in charge of how you're presented to the public, so you need to win them over." They both nodded solemnly, and Effie beamed at him. Apparently that meant that he could go back to eating his breakfast.

"Miri look!" Both children ran to the windows, the Capitol was coming into view.

Whilst they were distracted he slipped into the chair next to Effie. "I need my bottle back now."

"No."

"I'm not asking, Sweetheart.

"Haymitch, no."

"When we get off this train there isn't going to any more available until after the parade. I'm not going to get drunk, but I need something to tide me over."

She looked at him for a moment before asking, "You get shakes?" How did she know that?

He looked at the kids, they were still distracted by the view. "Maybe."

She pulled a handbag, green of course, onto her lap and started routing through it. He could have sworn he heard a bottle of pills rattling around in there. She pulled the bottle of whisky out, still half full, and handed it to him. "Just try to keep it together for them." He nodded at her and slid the bottle into his pocket.

"Alright kids, last chance to eat before the stylists get you. Make sure you've got your tokens too. We're out of here in fifteen."

When the four of them got off the train, all matching in green, Haymitch was dismayed to see that everyone who had come to greet the train was also wearing green.

Effie squealed. "Fashion icons! What did I tell you Haymitch." Fucking fantastic.


	6. Chapter 6

_Thank you so much for your reviews, they are very appreciated._

"I can't do this right now Selena," Effie snapped at the plump woman who had interrupted them as soon as they'd entered the games headquarters.

"Please Effie, Romeo's not here, Seneca's not answering his phone... I don't know what else to do. If you don't sort this there won't be a parade." Haymitch had thought Effie had an irritating voice, but this woman was much worse.

"It's not my job anymore. If Seneca thinks I'm interfering... And I've got two tributes to get ready." Effie sounded stressed, which was surprising as she'd be calm the whole way on the train, despite his efforts to provoke her.

"To get ready for what? If you don't help there isn't going to be a parade. Besides I know you've met with the stylists a hundred times already, they don't need you. We need you." Effie pinched the bridge of her nose and Haymitch was amused to see her fingertips came away coated with the white crap she'd caked onto her face.

"Fine. Haymitch, take the kids to the remake centre, you know where it is right?" He nodded in reply. "I'll be along as soon as I can. Please try and hold it together until then." She was abandoning them?

"You're leaving us?" That sad little whimper came from the boy.

"Don't be silly! There's something important I need to take care of here, but I'll be along in a minute."

"Come on Davis, we'll be alright." The girl was good with him, she might even be open to an alliance in the arena, especially since her skill was _sewing_. Haymitch didn't normally encourage district partnerships, it caused feuds with the families back home when the tributes inevitably fell out in the arena, but these two might be good for each other.

Haymitch walked the two of them the short distance to the remake centre, and was then summarily dismissed by the stylists, both of whom had been working for 12 for long enough to have a healthy dislike of him. That left him sat idly on a bench outside the centre. Normally he'd have been up to the penthouse already, but with Effie not there he was reluctant to leave the kids alone. What if there was a problem?

After waiting what seemed an age, but was probably only half an hour, he made his way back to the parade ground where he'd left Effie earlier. She was nowhere to be found, and he was about to give up and go back to waiting on the bench when he heard the irritating voice from the woman who'd dragged her away. She was in the control room.

"And did you see her reaping. Manners?" There was the sound of laughter. "Trying to act all prim and proper, as if she hasn't spent the last seven years on her knees." Much more laughter now.

There were four of them, all hideous, varying degrees of plumpness but universally appallingly dressed.

"She's better than Romeo though, even you have to admit that. At least she knows what she's doing. Why Seneca fired her I'll never know."

"Yes you do, everyone knows. Seneca only does men." More laughter, something about the noise of women laughing like that set his skin on edge.

Well all this was certainly informative, but not helping with his current predicament. He barged in through the open door, not bothering to knock as they hadn't bothered to close it properly in the first place. "You," he pointed at the woman he'd seen with Effie earlier, "Where's my escort?"

"Think I'm understanding the 'manners' now," one of the women muttered. When he glared at her she dropped her gaze and tried to sink into the sofa. Not easy given what she was wearing. No balls at all. Effie clearly had balls, and was suddenly glad he'd ended up with her and not with one of these vapid women.

The first woman had turned bright red, quite an achievement as her skin was actually coloured a pale blue. "She's through there. But she's busy right now. You can't go in there." He barged past her anyway.

Effie was at the other end of the corridor talking to a weedy man with a ridiculous beard. Neither her nor the man had noticed him, and he froze as he caught their conversation.

"You're an addict and a whore. If I had my way you'd be flat on your back in Silk Lane." Haymitch had been to Silk Lane just the once, a present from Chaff on his first year as a mentor. He hadn't appreciated it. Being given a Capitol woman who was so high she was having conversations with her hallucinations as she undressed him had led to him causing a scene and storming out. Given Effie's penchant for propriety he expected her to be outraged at the mere mention of Silk Lane. She wasn't though.

"Addict and whore. Is that really the best you can come up with? In case you hadn't noticed you're surrounded by addicts and whores, and if you think President Snow's going to start changing his policies just because some pretty boy objects..."

"And that's what this boils down to right? You just can't stand the thought that I don't find you attractive."

"I couldn't give a damn about whether you want to fuck me. Romeo has been a no show all day. Nobody else has seen the plans for the parade, he told them he didn't want to spoil the surprise. You weren't picking up the phone. What did you want me to do? If I'd just left it there wouldn't be a parade and you'd be going the way of Cosmo. I did you a fucking favour."

"I don't need your favours Effie. And don't think I don't know that you had a hand in Cosmo's disappearance. And that moron you've replaced as 12's escort."

"Do you really want to be talking about that here?" That caused him to look round nervously.

"Mr Abernathy," The man looked like a deer caught in headlights. Effie on the other hand looked perfectly serene again, quite a transformation from how furious she'd looked just a few seconds ago.

"Come on Sweetheart, the tributes are asking for you." He turned and left before either of them could stop him. He could feel her chasing after him and there were a few awkward moments until they were clear of control room and back out to the empty parade grounds.

"Escort for District 12 isn't a promotion for you, is it?"

"Not so much."

He wanted to ask her what the man had meant when he called her an addict and a whore, and why she'd said they all were, but he needed a drink for that, and he only had a few mouthfuls left to get him through til evening.

Instead he asked he who the asshole she'd been talking to was. He still half expected her to tell him off for his language, but she just laughed.

"That asshole was Seneca Crane, the new head gamemaker."


	7. Chapter 7

_Thanks for the reviews and favourites/follows. I'm away next weekend so it might be a little while before I can update again._

Effie cooed over the kids when they were finally let out of the remake centre. Haymitch didn't get it. They were both in miners get up, same as every other year, and try as they might no stylist had ever managed to make miners clothing look attractive, or sexy, or even interesting. And they did try, every single year it was some new hideous design that achieved nothing but making the tributes uncomfortable and making district 12 a laughing stock. This year the stylists had decided that instead of a normal headlamp, the lights on the helmets would be be set out like a ladybird's spots, six beams glowing at random angles. It would be utterly useless in a mine, and it was utterly useless at making the kids look appealing for the parade.

He left her to making final adjustments to their costumes and arranging them on the chariots. She made reassuring noises at them and they both appeared somewhat reassured. She was good at this. He wondered whether she would break when they died. Although the head gamemaker had insinuated that she was involved with the deaths of Rhinestone and Cosmo, the previous head gamemaker, he had trouble reconciling that with the caring woman he was watching now. He supposed that Seneca must have been lying, throwing random accusations at her to see what she reacted to. Like addict or whore. Although he was sure he heard pills rattling around in her handbag and he was sure she'd invited him into her bed the previous night.

It was too much to think about right now. He took another swig, there were only another two left in the bottle, but it would be enough to see him through until they made it back up to the penthouse for dinner.

The announcement came through that the chariots would begin leaving in thirty seconds so he made his way to the viewing area. The screens were currently focused on district 1, who unusually for them looked particularly stupid this year in square outfits made out of lumps of black rock studded with diamonds. Despite being a volunteer, the boy looked quite terrified.

"He's an idiot, it's only a horse. You can have him this year, I'm taking the girl." That was Gloss, who despite being 1's youngest male victor had been called upon to mentor again this year. It was rumoured that neither he nor his sister had much choice in the matter, they had won the two games prior to last year, and since nobody wanted to sleep with last year's victor, they were still the hottest thing around. Lots of people wanted to sleep with a matched set it seemed.

Effie reappeared at his side just as the chariots departed. She had a clipboard in her hands, and when he peeked at the sheet he could see timing for the parade. He guessed she really had saved the show. Pity really, it would have been fun to watch the gamemakers screw up like that. Snow would have had heads rolling. Although when he'd been a tribute they hadn't though of the chariots yet and it'd been a long walk down the parade strip. More than one tribute had tumbled with the nerves and the unfamiliar clothing, including little Suzie who'd been the first girl he'd mentored and who had never recovered her confidence after the audience had laughed at her. So perhaps it wasn't so bad.

The parade was the first chance he had to look at the other tributes, he avoided watching the recaps of the reapings as it meant sitting with hysterical children whilst they realised what they were up against. 2 were obviously the favourites, both photogenic and the cameras lingered on them more than the others. 6 were clearly at the receiving end of Snow's displeasure at the result of last year's games with two tiny twelve year olds, both of whom were crying. In the end 12's two didn't look so bad, especially after a particularly poor run of tributes from districts 6 to 11 which tested even Caesar's ability to put a positive spin on their chances. Miri and Davis were smiley and managed to look confident in contrast to the terror from the previous few districts. Effie had done a good job.

They came off the chariots flushed with excitement, Davis was even bouncing on the balls of feet and threw himself into a hug from Effie.

"Well done, you were brilliant."

"Do you really think so?" That was Davis, and he was clearly fishing for a compliment. He was becoming a bit too attached to Effie.

She seemed to sense this as she let him out of the hug and took Miri's hands. "Brilliant," she affirmed.

She led them to the elevators, still in their full costumes. The rest of the tributes were being led back to the remake centre to be undressed and have their costumes taken away for the museum. Perhaps she'd forgotten? "Effie?"

"Oh, the stylists are going to meet us upstairs and get the costumes off."

This meant they got to ride the elevators up by themselves, not at the back of the queue and crammed in with three other teams. She really was good.

"District 12 gets floor 12," she explained as she led them into the elevator and pressed the button, "that's the penthouse. Best floor in the building."

The children were still buzzing as they were led off to be changed. Effie started arranging for the dinner to be laid out ready for when they were done. He finished off the bottle of whisky and immediately started looking for a replacement.

"Really Haymitch?"

"I've been sober all day. No need for me to be sober this evening, not when they go to bed anyway."

"Sober, right."

He wanted to tell her to mind her own fucking business, but really with the job she'd done, especially since she'd done a whole load of things that clearly weren't her job, he kind of owed her.

"I have to go out after dinner, there's a party at The Grand. You need to stay sober for the kids. They'll want to go through strategy for training."

Haymitch had never been to a party at The Grand, he was never invited, but he knew what it entailed. The very rich and the very powerful, all under the guise of being potential sponsors, wined and dined and eventually fucked the popular victors. "The Grand? I don't think so."

"Yes. The Grand. It's my job. Besides there'll be lots of sponsors there, and I think they'll be interested in 12. The kids did a good job with the parade."

"They don't need those sort of sponsors. It's not worth it. I don't want you buying sponsors that way."

"Don't be ridiculous. It's a party."

"No Effie. I don't want you there. I need you here anyway, we need to talk." She narrowed her eyes at him when he said that, but he didn't care. He needed to go through some ground rules with her. Like no buying sponsors with sex.

"I don't know what you thought you heard Seneca saying, but..." She was cut off by Davis reappearing, the boy was definitely taken with her, and demanded all of her attention. She signalled the Avoxes and dinner was laid out on the table.

"Do we have an agreement Sweetheart?"

She glanced at the bottle of whisky in his hand. "Sure. As long as you stay sober."

Of course, sober. It was going to be a long night.


	8. Chapter 8

_Thanks for the reviews, follows and faves, you make my day. I am going away tomorrow, so may not update again for a week or so. _

Effie stared at her reflection and frowned. There were lines in the makeup on her nose. Those were Haymitch's fault. He got under her skin, she'd known he had been clever but she'd imagined that had been drowned by the amount of alcohol he poured down his throat. Apparently not, he knew how to press her buttons and did it mercilessly.

He was currently discussing training strategies with the kids, one day of knife practice and one day of survival skills, so she'd taken the opportunity to escape for a few minutes. Truth be told, she was dead on her feet. She'd barely slept the night before, waiting to see if Haymitch was going to bed her. She'd been up early after that, getting outfits ready for him and the kids, arranging breakfast and going through her schedule one last time. She'd counted on getting a rest whilst the kids were with the stylists, but that wasn't to be either. At least she didn't need to go to the party at The Grand any more, it was bound to have been a nightmare. Sponsors on the parade night were generally high on adrenaline and whatever narcotics they could get their hands on. The games workers who were present tended to be a warm up before the sponsors got the star attractions. Effie would have been a star attraction this year.

Instead, because Seneca couldn't keep his mouth shut, she was going to have to explain a few things to Haymitch that he wasn't supposed to know.

She really hated Seneca Crane, the man was a second rate poser who had filled key positions with his lovers. His father was President Snow's finance minister and Seneca was an only child who always got what he wanted. He'd become head gamemaker with only one year of experience, and had fired everyone who was part of Cosmo's old team, herself included. She was lucky that Rhinestone had screwed up and an escort position had opened up, otherwise she'd have been off to Silk Lane or sent to an outer district as a Peacekeeper. Although who was she kidding, with her reputation she would have never have been allowed to become a Peacekeeper.

A glance at the clock told her it was past time for the tributes to be in bed. She re-powdered her nose and went out to usher the tributes off to bed. They went without too much fuss, as exhausted as she was. That left her alone to face Haymitch.

He was sat in the living area of the suite, slouched on a sofa, the bottle of whiskey on a coffee table in front of him, untouched. She got two glasses and poured a generous measure into each.

"I thought we were staying sober Sweetheart?"

"Shut up Haymitch."

That made him sputter and a mist of whiskey sprayed from his mouth. "Seriously? What happened to 'manners' and all that crap?"

"The kids are in bed." She topped up his glass to replace what he'd spilt and then sat down beside him, glad to be off her feet. The shoes were very pretty, a pale green with silver leaves embroidered into them, but they were amongst the most uncomfortable she'd every worn. She sat straight though, no slumping, children who slumped had been heavily reprimanded and she'd learned early to sit in a proper manner.

"The kids are from the Seam, they couldn't care less what language you use, they'll definitely have heard worse."

"Maybe so, but sponsors care. Families first are an important pressure group. If the kids are caught swearing, that's it, they'll be too toxic to sponsor."

"Wonderful. Because swearing is so much worse than kids killing each other. " What could she say to that?

They sat in silence for a while, Effie played out answers to Haymitch's potential questions in her head. She was overtired and it was making her over think this. She took a good mouthful of the whiskey, savouring the warming sensation it left as it went down. He still hadn't said anything.

"Haymitch I've been on my feet for fifteen hours straight, just ask your damn questions so I can go to bed already."

He looked at her, and she squirmed under his attention. Could he see through her, see all the darkness in her soul, see the things she'd _done?_

"Addict. Whore. Killer." His voice was calm and measured as he repeated the accusations Seneca had thrown at her earlier. "Who are you Sweetheart?"

"I'm Effie." She could sell this, she'd done it before. "Formally personal assistant to Cosmo Maroon. Now district 12's escort." He would see how useful she could be. "Seneca is just an asshole who has an issue with how the games are staffed. He thinks the gamesworker roles should be thrown open to everyone, not just Freedom's Children. So he's been using words like that to turn people against us. It won't work though, we're President Snow's innovation, and Seneca's going to find himself in trouble if he keeps undermining us."

"What the hell are 'Freedom's Children'?"

"You know, the kids born under the Freedom Act, the ones who grow up in the group homes." The look on his face said he didn't know. "You've got group homes in 12, I know you do."

"Yeah, for orphans."

"But what about the unwanted kids?"

"Unwanted kids?"

He really didn't have any idea. Effie felt sick. They weren't doing this in the districts. They were only doing this here, to them. It made sense really. All the districts had ways to play people off each other. Merchants against workers, peacekeepers against the starving masses. So in the Capitol it was the privileged against the unwanted, the abandoned.

"You alright Sweetheart?" Haymitch's voice startled her out of her revelation.

"Yeah. I just figured something out. It doesn't matter." She shook her head to try and clear it. It didn't work. A mouthful of whisky helped though. "Only kids born under the Freedom Act can work on the games. Not in the big roles, the gamesmakers and the stylists are all from important families, but the rest of us are all from the group homes. Some people don't like that, and Seneca's one of them."

"It seemed like it was a little more than that."

"Yeah, well Seneca replaced Cosmo, and I ran Cosmo's team. I think he feels a little threatened."

"If you say so."

"I do. And it doesn't matter anyway. I'm district 12's escort now, and that's my top priority."

"Good. Then you'll understand when I say that I don't want you buying sponsors with sex." She tried to interrupt him but he held his hand up to stop her. "I mean it. If one of those kids wins, anything you've bought for them they'll be expected to repay ten times over. It isn't worth it."

The thought of one of _them_ touching Miri or Davis made her skin crawl. It was bearable if it was happening to her, she knew what she was doing, knew how to handle herself, but those kids were so innocent. "Ok, I can agree to that."

"Good. Off you go then." When she looked at him blankly he pulled a face at her and continued, "to bed, since you're _so_ tired."

"You're being rude Haymitch."

That caused him to laugh. "Like you care. Go away Effie, I want some peace."

"Goodnight Haymitch."

She waited for a reply but didn't get one, so with a huff she made her way back to her room. When she got there she began the task of de-constructing herself. Wig off first, then makeup, then shoes and then dress. She avoided looking at herself in the mirrors as best she could, didn't want to see the ghosts that Seneca and Haymitch had raised.

Finally she picked up her handbag and took out four bottles and lined them up on her dresser. The first was sleeping pills, and she knew she wasn't getting any sleep without one of those. The others she left, she didn't take those unless she had to.

She tried to keep herself calm as she felt the sleeping pill take her away. If she was agitated she was likely to end up trapped in nightmares from which her body was unable to wake. Unfortunately she was unsuccessful and she spent the night watching Miri and Davis being led away to pay for her sins and Seneca Crane laughing at her as they died.


	9. Chapter 9

_Three things. Firstly sorry this has taken so long, I've been caught up in writing another fic (more Hayffie but also lots of Katniss- check it out if you're interested), and have generally not had a huge amount of time. And I wrote a really bad chapter that had to be scrapped._

_Secondly Mockingjay was awesome, much better than the previous two films and better than anything I've seen lately. Just thought I'd share that._

_Thirdly there's a link in my profile for crowdfunding for the zoo where my brother in law works, the real zoo from the film 'We Bought a Zoo' and I'm trying to raise awareness so if anyone's interested that would be great._

_This chapter is a little bit lewd due to Chaff, but nothing too awful._

Training days were always slow days. The tributes were occupied from breakfast to dinner and sponsors didn't want to talk until training scores were released. Not unless you had something to sell. So for the next three days Haymitch had time to catch up with his fellow victors. In his case that pretty much meant Chaff. And catching up pretty much meant getting as drunk as it was possible to be whilst still being able to mentor the tributes in the evenings.

Chaff had a thirteen year old boy and a fourteen year old girl, both of whom were from the poor end of town. Chaff held no hope for either of them. He was however impressed 12's tributes who had managed to look confident and attractive despite being young and underfed. Haymitch made it clear that this was due to his new escort, who was actually competent for once. Chaff was rather jealous. Eleven had a young girl who had never shown the slightest interest in any of the tributes or the victors and who seemed to be using the position of escort as a way to lure as many rich men as possible to her bed. She wasn't even that attractive.

They left the subject of their tributes pretty quickly though, neither of them were under any delusions that their tributes might win, especially not after last year, and dwelling on them was depressing.

Instead they relayed competing stories over who had pulled the most embarrassing drunken stunts throughout the year. Chaff always won, he actually had people back home to embarrass. Losing an arm meant that he never had to be worried about being desirable in the Capitol, and so he had never had to worry about losing his family to misbehaviour. And having two victors in 11 meant that Chaff had neighbours, and hence regular contact with people other than those who supplied him with alcohol. Seeder was also as straight laced as it was possible to be, despite her time in the Capitol after her games, and so was very prone to Chaff's pranks. It made for some very amusing tales.

Seeder arrived to take lunch with them. She'd spent the morning cooing over Cecilia from 8's new baby photos, but had escaped with the white lie that she'd promised to meet Haymitch for lunch. Apparently Cecilia was finding being separated from her eight month old daughter incredibly difficult, but as there were only two victors from 8 she had no choice. Seeder had never married, she recognised that any children were more than likely to be tributes of the future. Cecelia wasn't that sharp, and she had been very vocal in her suggestions that Seeder should settle down and start a family of her own. Seeder hadn't had the heart to tell her why she wouldn't be doing that, but it had made for an awkward morning.

Chaff took this opportunity to regale them with stories of his conquests during the year, just to make Seeder squirm. This was not an area in which Haymitch could compete, he hadn't had a conquest in more than five years. He was very aware that the Capitol would use whomever he bedded to try and control him, and that their lives would be on the line if he didn't obey.

Chaff was in the middle of describing a particularly explicit act he had performed on one of his harem of drinking buddies in the bathroom of the only bar in 11 which had gotten him barred for a month when Effie walked in.

"...her tongue, Mitchie, I tell you, on my balls... pure heaven." Haymitch really didn't need an image of Chaff's balls in his head and couldn't help groaning. Seeder was pressing her hands into her ears. Effie however, didn't even blink as she told him off. "Language! What if I was one of the children?"

"The _tributes_ are in training. This your new escort?" At the nod of Haymitch's head he continued, "uptight bitch, ain't she? Hot though." She was a bitch, and hot, but he wasn't sure she was uptight.

"Hands off Chaff. Princess, you joining us for lunch?" He rather suspected she'd be good at keeping Chaff in line, and that would be more than a little entertaining.

"Effie!" She corrected in her shrill, affected, Capitolite voice.

"Please Effie, join us, if only to save me from these debauched drunkards." That was Seeder, always willing to look for the best in people, even if they were escorts.

"Sure. Although no more stories about your balls please, I'm not sure my stomach could handle that."

Chaff let out an almighty guffaw, slamming his fist on the table. "She is good Mitchie. Keep a tight hold on her, otherwise I might steal her while you're not looking. Livvy's got nothing on this one." That wasn't saying much though, Livvy was beyond useless. She wasn't malicious, but you couldn't say much more about her than that.

Effie signalled for an Avox to begin dishing out the meal, but she waved away the wine that normally came with a meal, and instead insisted on water. He tried to get the Avox to bring him some anyway, but the poor girl obviously recognised that Effie was in charge and ignored him.

"No. You've had enough already. I've scheduled us two TV appearances this afternoon. You need to sober up a bit."

"TV appearances, 12 never gets TV appearances, especially not before the training scores." Chaff sounded miffed, which eased the pain of knowing he was going to spend the afternoon parading around for cameras slightly. Not a lot though. He hated chat shows, they were a lot of the reason that victors were regarded as products rather than people. Still, if it helped the kids get sponsors it was a hell of a lot better than what she'd been planning to do the night before.

"Well they do now."

But when they turned up at the studios it became clear that 12 still didn't get TV appearances. Effie Trinket got TV appearances, and they were letting her bring her pet victor with her, all dressed up in complementary colours so he matched her outfit. The questions were all about which parties she'd attended and who she was sleeping with. She gamely led the questions back to Miri and Davis, how brave and charming they were, but it was clear that the interviewers had no interest in them.

What the interviewers did have an interest in was whether she was sleeping with him. He guessed he should have expected it given the fact that he'd kissed her on the stage, but he was still surprised. He was even more surprised when she started groping him for the cameras. She was calmly answering incredibly personal questions with very detailed answers that he was sure were all lies when her fingers started wandering. First her hand was placed gently on his leg as if it was a natural resting place. Then it started to creep higher, tracing a pattern on the material that seemed to burn through to his skin. It took him a few repetitions to realise she was tracing as 12. Definitely for the cameras.

It had been a while since he'd had a woman touch him like that for a prolonged period; there were plenty of women who had tried to throw themselves at him so that they could boast of bedding a victor, but he was always quick to brush them off as soon as his usually alcohol soaked brain could catch up with his body. So that the touch provoked a reaction in him wasn't unexpected. However letting the whole of Panem know that she could provoke a reaction from him was not something he wanted to do. It took him shifting uncomfortably under her fingertips twice before she realised what he was hinting at and then her hand was gone as naturally as it had appeared. He felt it's absence keenly. Evil woman.

He was thoroughly pissed off by the time they were done, he was not her performing monkey, if anything she was supposed to be his. He let her lead him past the waiting photographers before he took his revenge. He pulled her back into alcove in the wall that looked hidden but was in plain view of the press. The he pushed her against the wall and proceeded to kiss her soundly, the clicks of cameras playing in the background. She was soft and warm and thoroughly delicious, and he again found himself affected by her.

Disappointingly she seemed thoroughly unaffected by his kiss, as soon as he released her body from his she was turning to the press and blowing kisses at them. She doesn't reprimand him though, in fact she doesn't mention it at all the whole way back to the tribute centre, which makes him wonder if she was as unmoved as she appeared to be.

He soon forgets about it though, as when he makes it back to the penthouse the unthinkable has happened. For the first time ever, district twelve has sponsors before the games have even begun. It makes him want to kiss her all over again.

_Feedback is appreciated._


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